


You Gotta Have Your Greens, Dixon

by Ricksbowlegs



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: And they're both super childish, But Daryl hates them, Daryl loves him, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Help, M/M, Oblivious Rick, Pre-Season/Series 04, Rick always gets what he wants, Rick realizes his feelings, Rick wants Daryl to eat his greens, This is ridiculous, prison era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricksbowlegs/pseuds/Ricksbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick wants Daryl to eat healthier. After all, they grew a very productive little farm with Hershel and Carl and everybody should be taking advantage of its products. Except Daryl doesn’t seem to think so and is very averse to the idea. But maybe they can work something out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Gotta Have Your Greens, Dixon

**Author's Note:**

> Just a ridiculous idea I couldn't shake off. But it's Rickyl so Yay! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Unbeta'd. I apologize for the mistakes.

“Daryl,” he sighed, following the archer into his cell. “c’mon.”

“Nah,” Daryl said and sat on his bunk with his back against the wall.

“C’mon, just these few,” Rick prompted, holding out the plate for Daryl to take. He’d picked them out especially for his friend: an assortment of lettuce, tomatoes, carrots and peas, as a thank you for all the meat and food in general Daryl had provided them with for the past months that had him filling his clothes more than he had in years. That and everything Rick had needed to grow said vegetables, since he tried keeping himself inside the fences of late.

The hunter merely looked at his offer with indifference before shaking his head. 

Rick sighed, hanging his head as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He then looked back up at the archer, doing his best to imitate what Carl called ‘doggy’ eyes… or something like that. “Please?” 

Daryl didn’t even react to them, sadly.

“Nope.” 

“Oh, c’mon, just a little,” Rick coaxed. “I’m sure _just_ a little can’t hurt you,” he teased, rather amused at the hunter’s aversion to veggies.

“How’d’ya know?” Daryl asked, crossing his arms over his stomach as if to protect it while giving the plate a wary look. “Might be allergic t’ ‘em damn things.”

Rick scoffed. “You’re not allergic to veggies.” 

“Then I just don’ wanna,” the older man gruffed. “End a’ story.”

“Daryl,” Rick said in a stern tone, “I busted my ass growing them for the last months for all of us and you can’t even try them?”

“I ain’t never ate greens an’ I ain’t never gonna,” the archer said stubbornly.

Rick sighed, close to defeat, but not quite there yet. “How ‘bout the tomatoes? Those aren’t green.”

“They was at sum’ point,” the archer argued.

“But they’re not now,” he gritted.

“Don’ matter,” Daryl shrugged. “I ain’t eatin’ ‘em.”

“I can’t believe how childish you are being,” Rick huffed.

Daryl chuckled. “Me childish? How ‘bout the guy who can’t accept I don’ like ‘em nasty pieces o’ shit.”

“It’s food, not shit, Daryl,” he scolded.

“n’ I already ate _food_. Don’ need no more t’day.”

“You just ate the meat and pasta,” Rick supplied with a frown.

“Ain’t that enough?” the older man replied.

“Vegetables have other nutrients that meat and pasta don’t have,” he elaborated, remembering the lines Lori used on Carl when he was little.

“Don’ need ‘em nutrients. M’ fine just as I am.”

“Daryl, you have to,” he insisted.

“Nah, I don’ _have to_ ,” Daryl gruffed, taking out his knife from his pants to start picking under his nails with it. Rick was about to point out how dangerous that was, but he was kind of in the middle of another battle and knives were almost extensions of the hunter’s hands. “Why’s it so important t’ ya anyway?” 

“They’re healthy,” Rick answered honestly, placing the plate on Daryl’s lap. “And I want you to be healthy.”

At that, Daryl broke eye contact immediately and awkwardly shifted his position. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the archer was a bit flustered by his confession, or just uncomfortable. Rick didn’t understand the reaction. Daryl was one of the most important people in his life. Of course he’d want him to stay healthy.

“Like I told ya, I ain’t never needed ‘em,” the archer said at last, briefly looking at him through his bangs then looking down at his hands.

“So you’ve never eaten greens?” he said in disbelief. “That can’t be good.”

Daryl stayed silent for a moment then huffed. “I like potatoes…n’ I pro’ly eaten ‘em canned or frozen once or twice. Happy now?”

“No.” Rick sighed. “What about eating them fresh?”

“I’d rather eat ‘em canned,” Daryl grunted, bringing his hand to his mouth to chew at the nail he’d been picking with his knife. 

Rick followed the archer’s movements deep in thought. He’d never understand how Daryl could eat a raw animal, but fresh vegetables were out of the question.

“Well, I don’t care, you have to eat them,” he pressed on.

“Why?”

“Cause they’re good for you,” he stated. 

Daryl shrugged. “Save ‘em fer the kids.”

“There’s plenty for all of us,” Rick said. “Eat them.”

“Dammit, Grimes, ya don’ know when t’ quit, do ya?” the archer gruffed, breaking his attention from his hands and locking stormy dark eyes on his lighter ones.

“Not until you at least have some,” he said, smiling sweetly, keeping the _every day_ part to himself.

“Wha’d I get in exchange?” Daryl asked and a hopeful expression settled on Rick’s face, but then he frowned. Daryl wanted something in exchange?

“Better health?” he supplied mater-of-factly.

Daryl _puff_ ed. “Ya gotta gimme sum’thin’ better n’ that.”

Rick sighed and started massaging his brow to ease some of his frustration. How could Daryl be so damn stubborn? It was just a bit of veggies, for fucks sakes.

“Alright, what’d you want?” he sighed, letting his hand drop heavily on his thigh.

“Guess,” Daryl rasped.

“I have to guess what you want?” he whined, giving the archer a suffering look. “I’ll never guess.”

“Then I ain’t eatin’ yer disgustin’ veggs,” the hunter said playfully.

“They’re not disgusting. They’re food,” Rick said with a hurt look. “I thought you were more practical.”

“I am,” Daryl said with a smirk, visibly enjoying the younger man’s frustration.

“How is passing up food _just ‘cause you don’t like it_ practical?”

“Tha’s fer when we ain’t got nuthin’ more.”

“Oh, so if we had nothin’ else, you would eat them?” he huffed. 

Daryl snorted. “Man, ya just hate not gettin’ yer way, do ya?”

“I _am_ gettin’ my way,” Rick said with conviction.

“Not if ya don’ figure out what I want,” the hunter countered.

He groaned. “At least give me a clue.”

Daryl shook his head, smirking. “An’ make it easy on ya?”

“Fine,” Rick huffed. “I’ll find out either way.”

“Go ahead.”

He grunted and Daryl chuckled.

Taking a deep breath, Rick began searching through his memory anything the archer might have said that could be useful. 

“Does it involve…does it involve Carol?” he dared to ask. They were pretty close and he’d seen the way they acted around each other. There was deep understanding and love between those two, so he wouldn’t be surprised if it had to do with her. 

Daryl shook his head.

Rick sighed. “Is it something I can get on a run?”

“Nope.”

“Damn it,” Rick huffed. He really had nothing more. 

He stared at Daryl for a moment and took the plate from his lap. “Be right back…and I’m not leaving this here for you to make them disappear,” the former leader said, pointing at the plate in his hand and without another word, he excited the archer’s cell and went in search of Michonne.

“Hey,” he said, approaching her cell where she was exercising. “Can I come in?”

“Already ate,” Michonne said, eyeing the plate as she stopped working her abs then sat up on the floor to look up at him with a welcoming smile, “but sure, you can come in,” 

“Oh, no, this is for…” Rick trailed off. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Ask away,” she said. 

“Has Daryl ever said anything to you…about anything he might want?” he said in a hushed tone as he stepped inside the cell.

“Why’re you asking me?” Michonne said, throwing him a curious look.

“Well…you go on runs together all the time. I figured he’d trust you with…stuff,” Rick said awkwardly.

“Other than giving me fleas, he hasn’t shared much,” she said with mirth. Rick had to fight a chuckle at the tease. 

“Hey, Rick,” Carol beamed when she peeked through the door to Michonne’s cell then turning to her she said, “Sasha asks if you have any um...” and trailed off as she looked at him “… _lady_ things left.”

“I was married,” Rick smiled sadly. “I know all about the lady things.” Carol returned the sad smile and reached out to squeeze his arm. 

“Sure, I got some…” Michonne said and smirked at them as she continued, “ _lady_ things left.” 

“You’re not gonna eat that?” Carol asked him as she noticed the plate in his hand while Michonne started rummaging through her things.

“No—uh—I wanted Daryl to eat some veggies, but he doesn’t want to,” he said with a pout, mentally laughing at himself at how childish that sounded. And judging by Carol and Michonne’s amused expressions, they thought the same. 

“Well…” Michonne began as she kept looking, clearly making an effort to keep a straight face and a serious voice, “I don’t think there’s much you can do there, Rick. If the man says he doesn’t want them, then I guess you’ll have to respect his whishes.”

“Michonne is right,” Carol chipped in. “He really seems to hate them. I’ve tried to do the same before. It’ll get you nowhere, trust me.”

“But the thing is…” he said, trailing off as Glenn and Maggie passed by, continuing in a lower tone “…I might be able to get him to eat some if I find out what he wants.”

“How so?” Carol asked; her interest showing in her tone. 

“He said if I give him what he wants in exchange, he’ll eat them,” Rick said, nodding down at the plate in his hand. Carol and Michonne smiled knowingly at each other.

“Well…” Michonne said, abandoning her search for the time being, “Daryl’s never told me anything…but we still might be able to help you, right Carol?”

“Oh, yes,” Carol chirped, “I mean, we know Daryl…and we notice things.”

“What things?” Rick asked with interest, edging closer to them.

“You know… _things_ ,” Michonne said, sending Carol a mischievous grin that Carol retuned. 

Rick looked at them both expectantly.

*

Still dumbfounded, he stepped out of Michonne’s cell with no idea of what to do with the information they’d given him. If what they were saying was what he thinks they were saying, then that meant... Jesus Christ.

Daryl wanted… _him?_

And then it hit him. All those looks, those lingering, meaningful glances; those overly affectionate pats on the belly or the arm or back; Daryl’s unwavering loyalty toward him and his fierce protectiveness over him and his family. It made sense and he surely could see now what Michonne and Carol had hinted at. After all, hindsight was 20/20. But could he really rely on such subtle gestures from the archer? What if the girls were completely wrong and he made things awkward between them? 

He wasn’t expecting any of that. And he really wasn’t expecting the excitement gathering in his stomach, as if a ball of warmth, tingling electricity started to spread from his gut at the mere idea of Daryl having feelings for him. The warmth spread up to his chest at that thought, so powerfully he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. 

Could he really be harboring feelings for his best friend?

Sure, he loved being around him, and yeah, Daryl was the first person he wanted to see along with Judith when he and Carl were done farming for the day. And yeah, maybe he couldn’t stop thinking and worrying over the hunter when he went out on runs and counted the seconds until he made it back. And maybe more than once, he’d wondered what it would feel like to hug the man; a real, full-body hug, instead of those short, brotherly pats. 

Rick didn’t know what to think, or how to feel for that matter. All he knew is that he wanted to see Daryl. Now. 

Walking the short distance toward Daryl’s cell, Rick took deep, encouraging breaths when he started hesitating, but one look at the plate in his hand made him strengthen his resolve. He had a mission to fulfill.

“I know what you want,” he blurted out as soon as he entered the hunter’s cell and his eyes fell on Daryl, who was almost in the exact same position as when he left except he was reading a book now. 

Daryl’s eyes flicked up; a flash of alarm in his usually collected expression, though it quickly disappeared to be replaced with skepticism. “Ya don’t know,” he huffed, leaving his book beside him.

“I think I do,” Rick said, taking hesitant steps toward the bed. 

“Then what d’ I want, Grimes?” Daryl asked almost challenging while intently holding his gaze. 

Swallowing through the tightness in his throat, the former leader looked down at the plate in his hand as he stepped further into the archer’s cell and placed it on the makeshift night stand before slowly sitting beside Daryl’s thigh. Up close, he could feel the archer's quickened breathing and the heat emanating from the strong body. He almost closed his eyes and moaned. Almost.

Rick took his time to admire the handsome features in silence, in spite of the hunter’s questioning look, for knowing what he thought he knew now, he was seeing Daryl in a completely new light. And he liked it very much.

Licking his lips, he let his gaze drop down to Daryl’s, fixing it on them for a few seconds before looking at his eyes again to make sure the archer got the hint of what he was about to do. When the man showed no sign of wanting him away, Rick closed his eyes and went for it, leaning closer to the hunter’s lips until he could feel their soft pressure against his; their mixed breaths warm between them. 

It was a mere brush of flesh at first and more than permission, the former leader was asking for a response now. He quckly got one to his delight. Daryl parted his lips ever so slightly while hands rested on his hips and squeezed. So Rick puckered up and pressed a closed-mouthed kiss on the archer’s inviting mouth, humming in content at the deliciously new sensation.

After a few seconds of dazzling pleasure, even if it was a particularly chaste kiss, Rick pulled away and slowly opened his eyes, keeping himself close to the archer’s chest while smiling tenderly at the man's stunned expression.

“Well,” he said, meeting the older man’s dark blue eyes hesitantly. “Is that what you wanted?

Daryl looked at him openly. “How’d ya know?”

Rick sighed in relief. So the girls were right after all. 

“I’m a cop,” he simply said. “Or was.”

The archer snorted then smiled bashfully. “D’ya like it?”

The timid question brought an honest smile to Rick’s face. “Very much,” he nodded. “You wanna go again?”

“Hells, yeah.” 

“Great. But first things first,” he said clapping his hands on his thighs before reaching for the plate on the night stand. 

Daryl eyed the contents of the plate with mistrust, but after a few seconds, he picked up the fork and plate and started shoveling the vegetables into his mouth. Rick beamed at his victory.

“Was that so bad?” he asked when Daryl was done and had left the plate on the nightstand. 

“Awful,” Daryl grunted. “But totally worth it,” he said, licking his lips. “C’mere.”

Rick put up resistance against the hand that sneaked around the back of his neck to pull him forward. “You gotta promise me something first.”

“What?” the archer rasped, easing his hold on the former deputy’s neck, but keeping his warm hand there.

“That you’ll eat your veggies every day,” he said with a smirk.

“Man, I’ll eat yer entire garden if ya want me t’, just c’mere.”

This time, Rick gladly let himself be pulled forward, smiling contentedly against the much more eager and passionate kiss. 

He certainly got what he wanted.


End file.
